Chapter 12

COMING OUT OF the netherwhere, the first thing to greet me was the bright, upbeat music of the Duergar royal buglers. The second was Lochlyn.

Because she wasn’t New Garg, she’d had to take a different doorway and meet us here rather than travel with the official party from the fortress. Dressed in a blue gown so pale it was nearly white, the bodice and hem embellished with crystals, she looked like a fairy-tale princess. She skipped up to me, clapping her hands under her chin.

“You look like royalty,” she said with a pleased little giggle.

“That’s what my assistant said,” I groused. “Where did you get that dress?”

“Oh, this old thing? One of my gig dresses.” She swished the skirts and then twirled, letting them flare gently.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, letting my mood warm a little under the influence of Lochlyn’s excitement.

I drew a slow breath and looked around, taking in the pomp and the setting. We stood in a clearing of a wooded area and overhead the branches of very old trees had interwoven to form a natural canopy. Wildflowers edged the clearing, and birds chirped and swooped overhead, competing with the trumpet flourishes. A hard-packed dirt road bordered by ancient hawthorn trees led away from our gathering place toward the Duergar palace, just visible in the distance. Performers dressed in leotards and body paint of Duergar colors—pine green and pale orange—danced around the spot where the clearing turned into the road, ready to lead the party. Even my crusty, court-hating heart recognized that the scene was quite beautiful.

King Periclase himself stood to one side with his hands clasped in front of him, flanked by six hulking guards dressed in full body armor and outfitted with a sword and two daggers each. On one side of the king stood a man I recognized as his brother—Darion, a formidable Duergar soldier. On Periclase’s other side was his wife, Queen Courtney, casting her chalcedony-blue eyes aloofly over the heads of the crowd.

I tilted my gaze upward and spotted a few crossbowmen and women among the trees surrounding the clearing, and if that many were visible, I’d have bet there were at least twofold more out of sight.

In contrast to the festive atmosphere, the Duergar king’s face was hard enough to rival my stoic father’s. Periclase was an oddity of the Cataclysm. He’d spontaneously become part-New Gargoyle, but something had gone wrong with the transformation. Periclase’s change had left him with a face that was stone across the temple next to his left eye, over the cheekbone, and along the jawline on that side. He also had one hand that was curled into an immobile stone fist. It was as if stone armor had permanently taken over those areas of his face and body. In a strange twist of the Cataclysm, despite the areas of stone skin he couldn’t summon full rock armor. But even if he’d been able to prove sufficient New Garg blood, he’d have had no real reason to join up with Marisol. The Duergar kingdom was one of the larger Unseelie realms, and he’d been in line to rule it since the day he was born.

I’d heard that Periclase was a formidable-looking figure even before his transformation. With his half-stone face and stone fist, he was downright fearsome.

Maxen was striding across the clearing toward the Duergar king with half a dozen New Garg politicos following him. They stopped and bowed before the king, and Periclase gave them a slight nod of acknowledgement. Maxen straightened and spoke a few words to Periclase, who responded briefly. I wasn’t near enough to hear any of it.

Maxen took a position opposite Periclase, so he and the Duergar king each stood to one side of the road. The rest of the New Garg party formed a loose line to pay their respects to Periclase and Courtney. Lochlyn and I joined the queue with Emmaline behind us. When it was our turn, Lochlyn and I stood side by side before the King and Queen.

“Petra Maguire,” I said.

“Lochlyn Tisdale,” my roommate said.

In unison, Lochlyn and I curtsied deeply, with Emmaline doing the same a few feet back. Protocol dictated that attendants did not announce their names.

I lifted my head and found Periclase’s eyes boring into mine. The Duergar king’s jaw flexed, though the bunching of muscles was only visible on the fleshy side of his face. His eyes flicked to Mort’s handle, visible over my right shoulder.

“Oliver’s daughter,” he said, his voice almost unnaturally deep.

I blinked, automatically guarded at the recognition. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

He dipped his chin almost imperceptibly. The calculating look in his hard eyes made my stomach tighten.

Not knowing what else to say and wanting to avoid drawing any further attention from Periclase, I gave another, smaller curtsy, and then scooted away with Lochlyn and Emmaline.

When I glanced back, the next diplomats in line were bowing, but Periclase’s eyes were still on me.

“He’s kind of hot in an evil overlord way,” Lochlyn said in my ear, drawing my attention away from the Duergar king. “I mean, that stone. It’s badass.”

I shot her a warning look. “He’s dangerous, Lochlyn. Don’t let his stoicism fool you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” she said sincerely. “But he only had eyes for you.”

I snorted, finally cracking a smile. “Trust me, he’s not interested in that way.”

“Don’t be so sure. He doesn’t come off as passionate, but I’ve heard he really makes the rounds,” Lochlyn said, but she jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow, and I knew she was mostly teasing.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “But we’re in Unseelie territory. Please be careful.”

She linked her arm with mine in a gesture that I probably wouldn’t indulge from anyone else in the world.

“I will,” she said.

We walked slowly to the loose queue of people gathering at the head of the road that led deeper into the Duergar realm. While we were waiting, Emmaline briefed me on what would come next. After the procession to the palace, we’d be shown to our rooms for a brief freshen-up period before we’d be expected at the welcome reception. The reception would lead directly into a four-course dinner, which as I’d expected would be followed by dessert, drinking, music, and dancing.

This was all an opportunity for the Duergar to show off their riches and power under the guise of merry social events. The diplomatic discussions would formally begin in the morning, and I had no doubt that those would involve very little merriment. But that was Maxen’s department. Marisol had sent him and the others to try to talk Periclase into dropping his bid for absorbing the Stone Order into his kingdom.

I looked around, taking in the faces of the Duergar guards—what little of their faces I could see behind the armored masks—the dancers, and the other attendants. Any of the Duergar surrounding us could be spies. Knowing the Unseelie, maybe all of them were. I sobered as I considered my mission and just how difficult it was going to be to slip through the Duergar palace to search for Nicole. There would be even more people around later that evening, when I planned to break away from the party.

It might be necessary to reconsider my tactics. I wasn’t among fighters and blunt talkers like I was used to with my own people, or with the Guild mercs. Here, everyone was part of some scheme or intrigue, dealing in information and trading secrets.

“Spent much time in Unseelie courts?” Emmaline asked.

“No,” I said. “Is it that obvious?”

She gave a tiny shrug. “I’d guessed,” she said.

“How about you?”

“Yes, actually, that’s one of the reasons I was granted this assignment. From the age of thirteen, my mother made me spend a month every summer vacation at court, both Seelie and Unseelie. I had to bust butt to be ready for training each fall after missing out on summer sessions.” She rolled her lavender eyes, obviously still frustrated at the memory.

My brows rose, and I looked at her with new respect. She’d made it clear she wanted to go into a line of work that involved a weapon, but her parents had made sure she was well-rounded. It wasn’t unusual for young people in Faerie to spend time in foreign courts, but it was less common among New Gargoyles, and it was something Oliver had probably known better than to try to force on me. Or maybe it hadn’t ever occurred to him in the first place. Emmaline didn’t appreciate it yet, but her experiences would serve her well. And perhaps on this particular trip, they’d serve me well, too.

I leaned close to my page. “If you’ll help me out, I’ll make it worth your while when it comes time to apply to the Guild,” I said to her.

Emmaline’s eyes gleamed, but she managed to keep her professional veneer. “It’s my duty to help you, my lady,” she said, her words formal but careful.

In spite of what she’d said, I knew by her deliberate look that she’d accepted—we had an agreement. Now I just had to figure out what I needed her to do.

We didn’t have time to discuss it, though. Maxen had broken away from his post and was sauntering up. Emmaline stepped away, almost seeming to melt into the background of people.

He nodded at Lochlyn. “Lady Tisdale. So nice to see you.”

“I’m honored to be allowed to join your party, my lord.” She gave him a coquettish little smile before lowering her head in a deep, graceful curtsy.

He bowed with a flowery twirl of one hand, and she curtsied again.

I groaned loudly. “Could the two of you stop enjoying all of this quite so much?”

“In case anyone asks why I’m along, you could just tell them I’m a gift of entertainment,” Lochlyn said. She fluffed her hair. “Say the word, and I’ll sing their faces off.”

A bright, ear-splitting bugle flourish nearly made me jump out of my skin.

King Periclase was moving with his guards to the head of the trail, and the entire party was shifting around, ready for the procession.

Maxen linked his arm around mine and offered his other arm to Lochlyn. I tried to pull away—I didn’t want to draw attention by walking on the arm of the most conspicuous New Gargoyle there, but Maxen flexed his bicep, clamping my arm against his side. He pulled us to the head of the New Gargoyle group.

I looked up to find King Periclase’s gaze trained my way. I didn’t like the unblinking way he watched me. I inclined my head in a tiny bow, but then looked away, hoping that someone else would draw his attention. I had a split-second of paranoia, suddenly thinking that he’d guessed I’d come to claim Nicole.

As the Duergar king turned and began leading the party down the road, I couldn’t help wondering if I should have found a different way to come here. Something less conspicuous. As we began to move forward in the procession, I looked up at the hawthorn trees and spotted a camouflaged archer among the foliage.

In sharp contrast to the celebratory bugling and chatter, a knot of foreboding began to tighten in my stomach. The Duergar palace began to come into view down the road. Nicole was in there somewhere. I just needed to figure out how to find her and get the hell out.